


Bad Reputation

by borys



Category: Metalocalypse (Cartoon)
Genre: Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Underage Sex, M/M, Trans Character, neither are major tho
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-10
Updated: 2020-11-10
Packaged: 2021-03-08 23:53:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,545
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27485329
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/borys/pseuds/borys
Summary: Word about Pickles usually travels fast.
Relationships: Nathan Explosion/Pickles the Drummer
Kudos: 15





	Bad Reputation

**Author's Note:**

> u might want to skip this fic if rape/abuse triggers you! but it's only implied and not graphic at all.

Seth heard a rumor that Pickles was a slut.

It wasn’t surprising to him. Even though Pickles dressed like a boy, talked like a boy, and acted like a boy, he knew that he was as gross and weird as any girl.

Also, Pickles basically only hung out with dudes. Older dudes. Dudes with their own apartments and cars and day jobs. Some of them were his dealers, some of them he met going to concerts and parties.

They were all fucking gross.

Seth had met a couple, Pickles had brought them around when their parents were out of town. They would eye Seth suspiciously, as if he was a cop or a spy. But Pickles would laugh and put his small hand on their arm and say that Seth was a retard, but he wouldn’t tell anyone.

And one of those guys happened to be the older brother of one of the most popular kids at school. So it didn’t take long for rumors to spread around school that the weird ginger freshman would suck anyone's dick if you gave him a lot of drugs.

So that was how he found out. Sitting in the cafeteria, halfway through a bite of pepperoni pizza, when his friend asked if he knew what Donald had said about Pickles.

He hadn’t. But it made sense, so he scoffed and called him a whore and finished his pizza. What were they gonna do with him? He was wild, unruly.

-

Tony heard a rumor that Pickles was a cokehead.

It wasn’t super hard to imagine. A little scrappy midwesterner suddenly in the bright lights of LA. Taken in by the scene, exposed to new things. He didn’t know if they even had drugs in whatever Midwest shithole that Pickles had crawled out of. Not good ones, anyways.

When they first met, Tony had gotten kicked out of his last band for fucking the lead singers girlfriend, as well as being a useless druggie. Pickles was in some shitty glam band that everyone knew was never gonna take off.

But Tony liked the kid. Saw something electrifying in him. So he tracked him down to the squat house he lived in and offered him 5 grams of coke to join his new band. He dangled it in front of his face like bait.

“This is 5 grams.” He shook the bag temptingly. "But you have to leave the dumbasses you’re with right now. You’re better than them.”  
Pickles smiled at him toothily and reached up and plucked the baggie out of his hand. “No problem. You’re probably right.”

Tony was shocked at the ease of which he accepted. He expected that he would need to do at least a little bit of convincing. But there Pickles was, observing the bag, weighing it out in his hands to make sure he hadn’t been shorted.

It was at that moment that Tony realized how young Pickles was. Young and gullible.

-

Nathan heard a rumor that Pickles was transgender.

No big deal, he figured. Kind of funny, if he had a pussy or whatever. But it wasn’t like it changed the music, and he tried to make a habit of keeping out of people's business. 

But now Pickles was squirming underneath him, his wrists pinned to the bed by Nathan’s much larger hands, Nathan running kisses down his neck. And he realized that he should probably get clarification.

“Pickles?” Nathan whispered and pulled back, moving to be eye level to the smaller man below him. 

“Yeah?” Pickles panted out, looking up at him with wide eyes, leftover eyeliner smudging them dark. He looked too innocent for his age, too much like he did in old pictures. Pickles hadn’t really changed much since he was 16, Nathan thought, aside from his dress sense.

“Um… I heard that you… um…”

Pickles’ eyes narrowed. He obviously knew what he was thinking. “You heard what, big guy?”

Nathan never prided himself on being good with words. Not even close in fact. But his next sentence would haunt him forever as particularly embarrassing. 

“That you, like, aren’t a dude. Down there.” Nathan gestured with his chin at Pickles’ crotch, eyes darting down.

Pickles raised a single red eyebrow and looked down along with him. “Yeah? Where’d ya hear that?” He didn’t really seem mad about it. Just a little cocky. Maybe proud that Nathan hadn’t heard before.

“Uh. Magnus. Said he saw you changing one time. And didn’t see nothin’.”

Pickles shrugged. “Is it a problem? If I don’t got a dick?”  
Nathan shook his head. In fact, it might make him feel a little less like a homo.

“Then what’s the problem?”

“No problem, I guess. Just askin’.” Nathan didn’t think he had ever met an actual transgender person in his life. Not many in Florida in the 80s. But he guessed that Pickles knew what he was talking about, and wasn't doing anything weird.

Pickles smiled at him, then bared his neck. “Then what’s the hold up?”

-

Skwisgaar heard a rumor that Pickles could do makeup.

He had seen him in Snakes N Barrels photoshoots, with eyeshadow up to his eyebrow and glitter caked on his cheekbones. But he figured that someone else did that for him. He couldn’t imagine Pickles wearing makeup now.

But he had overheard Magnus ribbing Pickles for being able to do makeup better than all the girls he was fucking. So he tentatively knocked on the door of Pickles’ room in the apartment and slowly opened the door. He knew it was weird that he was there, so he tried to be as inconspicuous as possible. 

“Hey.”

Pickles was lounged back on his bed with a practice drum pad on his lap, tapping it with his drumsticks. “Uh, hey, man. What’s up?”

“I heards that you ams… eugh… wearing makeups. I was thinkings you could teach me.”

He liked the kind that Pickles wore. It was dark and shiny, like a galaxy dipped in water. He usually veered on the more gothic side, but he could appreciate good artistry. He wanted to know his secrets.

“Oh?” Pickles said curiously.

“Yeah. I tries, for other bands, but I ams not ever able to do it good.”

Pickles gestured to a couple boxed piled up in the corner. “That’s some of my shit from my glam days. Makeup should be in one of ‘em.” 

Skwisgaar dutifully went to the corner and rooted through the boxes until he found the one, filled haphazardly with dirty lipstick tubes and mascara wands. He picked it up, it was surprisingly heavy, and shuffled over to Pickles on the bed.  
To Skwisgaar, Pickles was kind of unreadable. He was definitely a lot calmer than most of the guys, more often than not. He wore dirty Chuck Taylors and ratty jeans. He didn’t give much of an indication on his feelings in any given situation. He just watched things.

Like he was watching him right now, laid back on his pillows. Skwisgaar felt like he was being sized up, not just observed.

Pickles set his drum pad and sticks aside, and started rooting through the box. The clicking of pallets and tubes filled the room as Pickles plunged his hand deep in the cosmetics and started pulling things out.

Skwisgaar just watched him. 

-

Charles heard a rumor that Nathan was fucking Pickles. 

He had heard it from some of the Klokateers, whispering among themselves about what one of them had seen. 

From what he had gathered, a couple of them had seen Nathan and Pickles having sex in a bathroom deep in Mordhaus. They had walked in to clean the place and found Pickles bent over a sink, face pressed into the mirror.

When Nathan saw the Klokateers, he threw a bottle of whiskey at them. It shattered against one of their skulls, knocking him out for a good 25 minutes. His coworkers had to drag him out of the doorway, leaving a streak of blood behind him.

Charles couldn’t say that he was particularly surprised. Nathan, though more discerning with his partners than the other guys, was still a man. If anyone offered him sex, he was more than likely to accept. 

And Pickles, well. He had always had his suspicions.

He didn’t quite know what to do about it. He had no plan for this situation. He wasn’t homophobic, or at least he tried not to be, but it presented some problems.

If the other guys found out, it would undoubtedly cause a rift between them all. They were all incredibly codependent, whether or not they wanted to admit it, and it was likely the other guys would feel left out. Not to mention that, if Nathan and Pickles fought, it might really fuck up the band.

But he was tentative to bring it up to them. They usually didn’t really listen to him. In fact, him butting into their personal lives usually made them continue whatever they were doing out of spite.

And he had noticed that Nathan was in a better mood recently. Less likely to throw a table across the room, more likely to ignore an annoying occurrence. 

So he decided to leave well enough alone. It could just be a rumor, after all.

**Author's Note:**

> part 1000 of me projecting on pickles


End file.
